


how 'bout a drink?

by TheNightbloodSolution



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Meet-Cute, bellamy is a confused bean, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 23:47:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15651420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightbloodSolution/pseuds/TheNightbloodSolution
Summary: His first thought was that it was rude.Here he was, sitting on the third stool to the right (his stool) in his bar, hanging out with his friends and she was asking him to buy her a drink.





	how 'bout a drink?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know man I just want these two to be happy and together.......

His first thought was that it was rude.

Here he was, sitting on the third stool to the right ( _his_ stool) in _his_ bar, hanging out with _his_ friends and she was asking him to buy her a drink.

Now, Bellamy is fine with girls flirting for a drink, there’s nothing wrong with that, but the fact that it was her: the girl with the elaborate blonde hairdos and glowing blue eyes. That’s what got to him.

He came to this bar every Friday with his little group of misfits, including his sister, his roommate, and their gaggle of annoying, but well-meaning friends. The bar was a little bit dingy, and the beer didn’t taste great, and half the time the monitors meant to play the big game were broken, but it was his bar. He’d been coming here for years.

This girl had shown up not one month back, each week opting to sit at a table (not the bar), pick at her chipped nail polish, and check her phone, until another equally gorgeous woman would strike up a conversation with her.

Week One it was a brunette with heavy eyeliner, who wasn’t shy about being physical, hands on the blonde’s arms, pushing her hair behind her ear, even opting for a quick kiss before leaving the bar not thirty minutes after they started talking. He might’ve even believed that had been her girlfriend had Week Two not shown up a week later.

Unlike Week One, Week Two seemed to already know the small blonde upon arrival, giving her a cordial hug before they ordered their drinks. Week Two was all leg, with dirty blonde hair and a sweet smile. They talked far longer than Week One had with the girl, but the result was the same, a kiss before leaving, the taller blonde laying a hand on the small of her back while they walked out the door.

Week three was a hard one for Bellamy, he was on the verge of the results from the Superintendent about his year review and for God’s sake, he taught sixth grade history, he shouldn’t be able to botch that up, but he was still nervous. Miller ordered the beers that night, while Octavia tried to distract him with details about her day, anything so he wouldn’t focus on his own nerves. The monitor had just crapped out when Week Three approached the blonde. Her dreads swung as she walked (or more accurately, sauntered) toward the girl.

His staring must’ve been apparent because Octavia chimed in, “Oh, I know her.”

“You do?” Bellamy asked.

“Yeah, that’s my boss Indra’s daughter. _Man_ , have they got issues.” Octavia took the cue to dive into family drama that is not her business, at which point Bellamy stopped listening.

The result was the same as it was every week, the blonde left with a kiss from someone who looked like they stepped straight out of a fashion magazine. But that week, he could’ve sworn she looked him dead in the eye before she walked out the door.

Which brought him to this moment, her body on the fourth stool to the right, right next to _his_ stool, her hand on his arm as she asked him to buy her a drink.

He had no problem with her asking for a drink, but flirting with him when he had been here every week watching her pick up women in _his_ bar? He wasn't upset that she was trying to get a drink off of him, he was upset that she had been coming here for weeks and not noticed that he was there. So, no, he wasn't going to fall for her charm. And okay, maybe she didn’t ask for a drink as much as she flirted and flashed a cute smile, but the intent was there. And he wasn’t going to let her win.

“I’m Clarke,” she told him. (Goddamnit if that wasn’t a way cooler name than he thought it would be. Why couldn’t she just be Kelsey or something?)

“Bellamy,” he replied smoothly. This would happen the one time Octavia, Miller, and company decided to sit at a booth instead of the bar.

“Watching the game?” She joked, with a quick glance to the still-broken monitor.

His response was a miniscule shrug of the shoulders. She removed her hand from his arm and looked around, losing her resolve. He tracked her gaze and saw it stop on Octavia.

His sister. It all fell into place; she was trying to make his sister jealous by flirting with him.

She opened her mouth to speak up again, but he beat her to the punch.

“She has a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“She has a boyfriend.” He repeated.

“Who?”

He rolled his eyes. “The girl you were just staring at. She’s not interested.”

“I don’t know why she would be,” Clarke responded, irritated. “I was trying to flirt with you; I think Octavia was wrong…”

His eyes snapped up to meet her piercing blue eyes. “Wait, what? You talked to Octavia?”

She nodded. “I noticed that you always came in with her, so I wanted to know if you guys were dating, but she told me you were her brother and quote very available, so I thought I’d give it a shot.” She shifted awkwardly. “But clearly you’re not interested, so I’ll just…” She moved to go, but his hand shot out for her wrist.

“Wait, no. It’s just, I thought-” He tried to get his jumbled brain in order. “I thought you were gay.”

“Bisexual,” She clarifies. “Is that a problem?” Her tone is suddenly more judgmental.

“No, no- I mean, I’m pan, but it’s just that-” He stops to gather the words he needs. “You kept leaving with a different girl each week, so I didn’t know for sure. I guess I assumed, which was wrong.”

“It’s fine,” she says cautiously.

“So, you were saying, about hitting on me?”

She cracks a smile. “Well, I figured since I kept trying to catch your attention and you weren’t giving out any signals, I’d ask around.”

“I was going to talk to you.” Bellamy admitted. “The first week you came in, before the brunette came up to you.”

“Maybe you should have.”

“Maybe I should have.” He smiles softly. “Maybe I should have just let my stupid brain remember that bisexuality is a thing.”

“Mhm.” Miraculously, she smiles back.

“Maybe we should start over.”

Confusion falls over her face as Bellamy gets off his stool, walks out the front door and walks right back in, just to plop down next to her.

“Hi, I’m Bellamy. Can I buy you a drink?”

“I think I’d like that.”


End file.
